Snapshots
by SkyGiantz
Summary: He's not even the main character of his own life. (A Nagisa Shiota character study)


**Nagisa Shiota: A Character Study**

Nagisa is eight when his dad leaves.

Up until then his parents had gotten along rather well. His mom would make dinner, and his dad would come home after work and kiss her on the cheek. He would sometimes hide her favorite chocolate candies in places only she would find, and likewise she would leave little notes in in the pockets of his neatly pressed suits. Words of encouragement and love before particularly stressful days. Despite being together for ten years, their relationship still had the freshness of two high schoolers without a doubt in their mind. In Nagisa's eyes everything was perfect.

Except Nagisa was only a child.

His mother would tuck him in at night while his father watched warmly from the doorway. And as he fell into a blissful sleep, he would never hear the harsh whispering in the bedroom next to his. The occasional arguments, that grew into nightly feuds.

 _He's a boy! You can't refer to him as a girl._

 _I can refer to MY child however I want!_

The arguments would just go back and forth, with his mother refusing to adhere to logic and reasoning, and his father growing frustrated and sleeping on the couch. Not long after, the warm evening kisses turned into terse greetings, and the carefully pressed suits were brought to the cleaners. However, Nagisa had just turned eight and was still naïve to the world. 'Your father was caught in traffic' 'He's working hard and making lots if money so we can all go on a fun trip together' 'He's away on a business trip this weekend, but he loves you very much'

He accepted these excuses readily enough because in his heart he wanted to.

Nagisa doesn't like being called a girl. But his mother hasn't smiled much lately, and during dinner there's a palpable tension in the air that even he can feel. So he responds to his mother's "Nagisa-chan, can you pass me the salt?" ignoring his father's disbelieving look and the slimy wrong feeling in his stomach as he places the shaker in her palm, because his mother smiles at him endearingly, and he's happy that she's happy. He's completely oblivious to the battle raging before him- his mother's triumphant smirk and his father's narrow eyes. Because Nagisa is innocent, and Nagisa chooses to believe in his parent's love.

His father leaves early for work the next morning, but never comes home.

* * *

When he is nine Nagisa befriends a boy named Ryouma. Ryouma is smart, funny and cool in all the ways Nagisa wishes he could be. His classmates gravitate around him as if they were planets and he were the sun. At lunch he tells them grandiose stories and during recess he's always team captain. Even their stoic teacher smiles sunnily at his stories, amused at his sometimes silly antics. Ryouma is lucky, Nagisa thinks. He has a cool name, cool anime stickers that decorate his notebook, cool bright red shoes, and a cool hairstyle. Nagisa thinks maybe he should feel more jealous of Ryouma, but instead he feels grateful just to be acknowledged by someone so bright and full of life.

Nagisa wants to be just like him. So he runs home after school one day excited and eager.

He starts by preparing dinner. He's never cooked dinner a day in his life, but he's seen his mother do it, and believes he can too. He uses all the wrong pots and pans, undercooks the rice, and overlooks the dumplings. He adds too much miso powder to the broth, and he has to jump just to reach the plates from the top shelf. His mother walks in as he's placing the chopsticks on the table, exhausted and weary, but when she sees the mess of food on the table and disarray in the kitchen she smiles proud and affectionate.

She ignores the crunch of the rice. "Nagisa-chan this is delicious!"

And the burnt dumpling tips. "I love them when they're crispy."

Nagisa unused to being complimented blushes crimson red at the praise, his downcast eyes staring at his lap. "Mom" he begins softly, rubbing his hands in a nervous gesture beneath the table. He hears his own heartbeat grow loader, and feels his hands grow clammy. "Can I get a haircut?" He asks softly, his eyes trained downward.

His mother politely sets down her chopsticks. Lifts a napkin to her lips and dabs it softly. Vermillion red stains the cloth. "What do you mean honey?" she questions, her voice strained. "Your hair is beautiful the way it looks now"

Nagisa, too afraid to look up continues "All the other boys have short hair" he begins, his mind immediately remembering Ryouma's spiked tips "And when I have to tie my hair back for gym class it's-"

He hesitates. She tenses.

"It's embarrassing" he finally finishes. He bites his lip in anticipation. Really it's not so bad. His hair brushes the nape of his neck, and the only time it bothers him is when he has to run. Then it blows in his face, and sticks to his forehead and he wishes he could just cut it all off. And there's only a few boys that laugh at him so really it's not that bad.

"But then you'd look like a boy" his mother states plainly.

This time Nagisa does look up. Confusion laces his mother's face, and he's dumbfounded by the whole situation. "But I _am_ a boy." He speaks slowly, unsure as to why, but feeling like he should.

His mother stares at him strangely for a moment before exclaiming "Aha! I know what this is about" and promptly proceeds to leave the room. She returns several moments later with a small pink beret with white flowers on it. Gingery she brushes back Nagisa's bangs with her fingers, exposing his forehead and clicks the beret into place. "There" she exclaims proudly admiring her work. "You don't have to be self-conscious honey, you're the cutest little girl in your class." She plays with his hair fondly, oblivious to the dishes on the table or her son's bewildered stare. "This was my beret from when I was younger, but now I'm passing it on to you" she hum's sweetly. "I've always wanted a daughter to share things with." Nagisa can hardly breathe, much less speak. His breaths come short and hitched as his mother continues to run her fingers through his silky locks. Looking at him without really seeing him.

It's the first time Nagisa thinks his mother may be sick.

* * *

"My, my, what a cute little girl!" The women exclaims, clapping her hands together.

"Thank you" his mother all but purrs at the sales associate, pulling Nagisa closer as she does. Nagisa feels his face growing warm as he keeps his eyes on the floor. Again he's forced to view the azure blue sandals adorning his feet. Bile swells in his throat. The older lady watches him and chuckles softly mistaking his discomfort for shyness.

"So will that be the lucky winner today?" the woman questions giving Nagisa a once over.

He wants to throw up.

"I think so" his mother pronounces happily. The dress is white and lacy, hanging just above his knees. He's standing awkwardly in front of the dressing room mirror as the two women coo and coddle over him. They're making such a fuss that people nearby are craning their necks to look.

He's sick and wants to go home.

The fringe that was supposed to be cute at the bottom only makes him squirm more, and the ribbons are just as awkward as he feels. And he thinks of the sales lady chatting happily with his mom and about how she's probably old enough to have grandchildren of her own. He wonders if she enjoys her job. If she has family to return to. If she has a daughter of her own.

But he doesn't wonder what she would think if she knew he were a boy.

 _Disgusting_.

He already knows.

* * *

Nagisa is ten when Ryouma sees him in a dress.

Ryouma come's running over, arms waving above his head like a lunatic. He's clad in his signature red sneakers, which he washes twice a week to maintain their vibrant color and his spiked hair perfectly styled. He's clean and bright, made of sunshine and smiles, and Nagisa is struck again by how different they are.

For a moment he's giddy to see his friend outside of school.

But then he remembers. He's with him mom. At a department store. And he's wearing a dress. Then the full gravity of the situation hits him full force, making the oxygen a little harder to breathe.

As if on cue, Ryouma stops and sputters like a deflated balloon before he reaches Nagisa.

"Nagisa?" he intones. He's about five feet away uncharacteristically still, face blank. Uncomprehending. Nagisa can only stare wide eyed at his friend. Mind reeling, fizzing and going numb. Ryouma looks him up and down. The floral sundress, his white sandals, the flower in his hair. A thousand regrets surge through his mind.

 _I could have been stronger. I could have refused._

Maybe for the same reason Nagisa couldn't speak, Ryouma couldn't move. It's ultimately his mother who breaks the silence.

"Nagisa-chan, who is this? Do you know this boy" Her voice sings soft and smooth, yet a chill runs down his spine. Her arm coils threateningly around his shoulder like a predator trapping its pray. "No mom" he starts, his body growing cold. It strikes him what he has to do. For the first time, he locks eyes with Ryouma, begging and pleading for his friend to understand.

"I've never seen him before in my life."

 _It's better this way_.

Ryouma flinches like he's been slapped, and Nagisa turns away. He can't stand to look at his friends disgusted face.

 _I don't deserve you_.

His mother's icy cold fingers give Nagisa's arm an affectionate squeeze.

 _So please leave._

His eyes sear and burn, and Ryouma's footsteps make loud thumping noises that grow quiet before long.

 _Before you become dirty too._

They echo all night long.

He sees Ryouma in school on Monday. It's unavoidable. The others still surround him because he is their sun, and Nagisa sits alone at lunch. Ryouma could embarrass him in front of the whole school. But he chooses not to.

In the end Ryouma doesn't tell anybody because he's a good person.

And Nagisa doesn't explain anything because he isn't.

* * *

"Nagisa, are you okay?" His mother asks wearily. She's already late for work but something in her son's face makes her pause for a moment and set her briefcase back on the table. She walks up to her son and gently rests the back of her hand against his forehead. Nodding to herself, she uses her other hand to dig through her purse for her cell phone.

"Hello? This is Shiota Hiromi and I apologize for the short notice but I won't be coming in today." She snaps her cellphone shut with all the authority in the world, and directs her attention back to her son.

Nagisa doesn't react in the slightest. His clouded eyes lingered on the soggy cereal floating before him. A minute later she removes her hand and starts digging around for the thermometer. "Mom" Nagisa finally begins, lifting his gaze from his untouched breakfast to his mother. She pauses in her efforts and a flicker of resignation crosses her face.

"I'm gonna be—" but before he can finish, Nagisa's mother is holding a bowl before him with one hand and rubbing soothing circles across his back with the other, as all of his insides emptied themselves in the plastic container.

"I don't feel so well" Nagisa finally admits leaning into her touch.

"I know baby." She says softly making shushing noises in his ear while guiding him up the stairs to his room. She lies a cold towel on his forehead as he settles back into bed, and as he's fading in and out of consciousness he hears her talking to someone.

 _"_ _-he's sick today"_

 _"_ _-has a fever."_

 _"_ _-needs medicine, can you-"_

Sometimes he could feel a hand stroking his hair and a light weight pressing against the edge of his bed, but instead of its normal possessiveness he finds it comforting. And in his delirium Nagisa thinks somewhere inside of her she actually _sees_ him, and loves him enough to try and be what he needs.

* * *

Karma is dark and coated with razor sharp edges and dangerous corners. But he's refreshing in a way that has Nagisa craving more. He's eleven, and Karma's twelve when they share their first class together. Really, they have hardly anything in common. Nagisa is small and quiet. Not even the main character of his own life. He maintains average grades and sits alone during lunch. Whereas Karma is everything Nagisa is not. He is tall and loud. He gets into fights with older students _for fun_ , and always comes out grinning. He argues with his teachers because he's a genius and knows he's right, and skips lunch to go home early. In a way Nagisa also wishes he could be like Karma. Strong and resolute. But Karma is his own main character and Nagisa is the equivalent of Townsperson B (completely irrelevant and replaceable). So in the end he's content just sharing the same stage.

* * *

For his twelfth birthday, his mother buys him a charm bracelet. He's overheard the other girls in his class fawning over the bracelet and its customizable charms for weeks now, so when he opens the carefully wrapped box, and first lays eyes on it he recognizes how nice (and expensive) it really is. He knows he should just be grateful and thank his mother. If he could just let it go he could enjoy his cake, lay in bed all day, and consider this birthday a win. It would end easier for both sides that way, and less painful too. But he can't. He's disappointed, and angry, and his mother's elated smile was only making it worse.

He looks up from the jewelry box, and his mother's face falls a little. "What about Sonic Ninja?" Nagisa asks none too gracefully. It was the movie he and Karma had bonded over and he was not subtle about his desire, even going so far as to leave a 'Limited Time Sale' coupon on the counter.

His mother tries again, this time more pacifying. "I just thought you'd like this be—"

"No!" Nagisa interrupts, his hands balled at his sides, voice loud and shaking. Rude. He was actually being rude. "You don't think about me at all! I—I only wanted a movie. But you-you." His words were sticking to the roof of his mouth as his feelings threatened to overwhelm him. He was completely at the mercy of his own emotions. Years' worth of submissiveness and pent up frustration held him hostage and demand he fight back.

"Nagisa-chan" A warning.

"—But you think."

"Nagisa" A threat.

"I'm not a girl!" he explodes unable to articulate any clearer. "So stop—"

CRASH!

Little charms break apart and scatter across the kitchen floor rolling under the fridge and into corners and other hard to reach places as the bracelet laying between them before, now rests broken on the floor after having being thrown by his mother.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! You ungrateful brat!" Her hands find his hair, tightly tugging and wrestling his head back and forth. "I work hard all the time. I make you dinner and wash your clothes and all you do is disrespect me. I even spend my hard earned money on you, buying you such nice things and you have the audacity to tell me off. You think I ever wanted a child like you? Ha! Maybe if you were born a girl, then I could love you." She tightens her grip giving one final tug before letting go. Small tufts of hair float to the ground. Nagisa can only watch silently, his scalp throbbing.

His mother makes a noise of indignation, brushes herself off and promptly grabs her purse before walking out the door.

When the door clicks shut, Nagisa sinks to the floor. Uncontrollable tears stream down his face in a mixture of anger and self-pity. Hesitantly he reaches over to pick up a charm that rolled close to his side.

A piano. With the taste of salt on his lips he gives a humorless laugh.

He doesn't even play the piano.

* * *

He's not mad at his dad for leaving.

He's mad at his dad for not taking him too.

* * *

When Nagisa first wears his hair to school in a ponytail, the bullies have a field day. Teasing, pulling, laughing, they mock him and call him a girl. (He doesn't protest) They insinuate he's a cross-dresser, and jeer at him for it. (He stays silent) One of them even comments he'd be doing everyone a favor if he just disappeared. (He agrees)

That lasts about a day, before Karma beat up everyone giving him a hard time.

 _"_ _But Karma why?"_

 _"_ _-Cause I'm the only one allowed to make fun of your hair, dumbass."_

He asks nothing, and Nagisa doesn't offer.

Karma knows Nagisa would tell him everything if he so much as asked. But he doesn't need to.

He already knows.

* * *

"Kimura-Kun."

"Here."

"Hirano-San"

"Here"

"Nagisa-Kun."

Silence.

"Shiota Nagisa-Kun" Koro-Sensei tries again. The other students crane their necks looking around the room.

"Has anyone seen—" But before he can finish, the door whips open revealing an out of breath Nagisa. A blush sweeps across his face as he realizes the commotion he's caused, and he bows low in apology to both Koro-Sensei and his class.

"I'm sorry I was late" he finishes, still standing in the door way. The words flow easily from his mouth.

"My- My Nagisa, this is so unlike you." Koro-Sensei grins. "Somewhere else you'd rather be? A hot date maybe?" he teases lightly. The whole class _(his friends)_ and Koro-Sensei _(his teacher)_ revel in his embarrassment for a moment as he straightens up and takes his seat.

"No sir." He replies. His smile bright and gleaming.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be"


End file.
